


Hardcore Girls

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The song winds down to a close and Louis weaves through the crowd with Zayn’s hand tight in hers, knowing that more than just eyes will follow them to the bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hardcore Girls

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [girl direction fic fest](http://catchmelike.livejournal.com/1656625.html)!

Louis presses her face into the curve of Zayn’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of her last cigarette and leaving a messy lipstick print behind when smell isn’t enough. People stare as Zayn cups the back of Louis’ neck, but none of them seem to notice when Louis almost turns her ankle trying to work a leg in between Zayn’s bare thighs amid the crush of people on the dance floor. They’re both shit at dancing, really, but this kind is easy to fake. The song winds down to a close and Louis weaves through the crowd with Zayn’s hand tight in hers, knowing that more than just eyes will follow them to the bar.

Several free drinks later, Louis looks out at all the people dancing and drinking and hitting on each other. It’s sticky-hot inside and she feels just the right amount of buzzed to do something stupid with a stranger. Zayn’s probably thinking the same thing, face impassive as she checks out two guys a couple feet away.

“They look like upstanding young citizens, yeah?” Louis says in her ear, leaning close to be heard over the music.

To her surprise, Zayn only shrugs. “Not tonight.”

Louis bites her lip, thinking it over. “Just one for the both of us, then?”

“Don’t think so.” Zayn can barely keep a lid on her smirk.

Louis’ only response is to slide an arm around Zayn’s waist, pulling her in tight without paying any mind to the heat sticking them both together.

The tube ride home feels like forever, but eventually Louis is fumbling with the keys to her flat and letting them both inside. Zayn hops up on the kitchen counter, just like always, except this time she parts her legs so Louis can step in between them. Louis takes in the smudges of kohl around her eyes, the fall of black hair over one shoulder, the glimpse of lace underneath her skirt. That’s all it takes for her to lean into a kiss, standing on tiptoe to rock against Zayn’s body, almost like dancing.

Zayn moves back with it and then surges forward, almost knocking over a salt-shaker as she bites at Louis’ lip. It feels perfect, but that’s no surprise; Zayn knows everything about how Louis likes getting kissed. Among other things.

Fingers press into the small of her back and down further until Zayn is squeezing her ass, lifting her up into it as she licks into her open mouth. The salt shaker wobbles precariously and then clatters to the floor as Zayn scoots forward, tangling her fingers in Louis’ hair and pulling just hard enough for tingles to run up and down her spine, the slight pain setting her on edge.

She grabs onto Zayn’s hips, impatiently pushing her skirt up and pressing the heel of her hand against the front of Zayn’s panties. She’s wet, and Louis wastes no time in pushing the barely-there strip of fabric off to the side, sliding two fingers inside and angling them up just right.

Zayn makes a sound like she’s choking, shoves her hips forward. Her legs are spread against the cold granite of the countertop, skirt rucked all the way up and thighs flexing as Louis pushes another finger inside her. Bracing her hand on the countertop, Louis twists her fingers almost cruelly, thumbing over Zayn’s clit and smirking when she visibly jerks. She’s getting wetter by the second, Louis’ fingers are practically drenched in it. She keeps them sunk inside as she spreads Zayn even wider apart, pushing her back until she’s lying flat on the countertop. More things roll off and fall to the floor, and Louis spares a moment to think about how this would probably be a lot easier if they took it to the bedroom. No time for that now, anyway. 

Louis leaves her last faded traces of lipstick on the inside of Zayn’s thigh, teasing her until she arches her back up off the countertop, hips rolling up insistently. Then she abandons all pretense and starts to lick, long and slow and just this side of maddening. Zayn nearly sobs. Her thighs struggle to clench together around Louis’ head, and when Louis looks up at her she’s got a hand up her own top and her lower lip caught between her teeth. Pressing her own legs together, Louis starts sucking her clit, hard and steady. Every few seconds, she flicks her tongue against it, stroking just inside with her fingertips. Zayn makes an injured noise and thumps her head back hard against the countertop, rocking up into Louis’ mouth for a few seconds and then abruptly pushing her head away.

Louis lets go, drawing her fingers out of Zayn and sucking each one pointedly. There’s a faint row of finger-shaped bruises pushed into the soft skin of Zayn’s thighs, and she winces as she presses them together.

“C’mere” Zayn says, looking as commanding as she can while still coming down from an orgasm.

Before Louis can make a remark about her eagerness, Zayn’s latched onto her neck, sucking hard until she can feel blood being pulled to the surface, welling up into dark purple bruises. Zayn moves down the side of Louis’ throat until she gets to the edge of her top, raking her nails up Louis’ sides as she lifts it off for her.

Louis reaches behind herself to undo her bra, shrugging it off and chucking it on top of the shirt. Zayn’s seen her tits a million times, but she’s never looked at them quite like this. She doesn’t restrict herself to looking for long, anyway, pulling one of Louis’ nipples with her fingertips and bending down to drag her tongue over the other one, biting it gently.

Louis tangles her fingers in Zayn’s hair, lifting it off her nape to reveal the thin, fragile lines of her neck and shoulders. After a few more seconds, she pulls away. Louis’ fingers tighten in her hair automatically, but she only slides off the counter and sinks to her knees in front of Louis, still looking boneless and content. She fumbles to undo Louis’ pants, yanking them down off her hips and pressing sloppy kisses down her stomach in a line.

Louis holds onto the edge of the counter as Zayn hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her knickers and pulls them down as well. She focuses on the sweep of Zayn’s eyelashes, the locks of hair tumbling into her eyes as she spreads Louis apart with her index and middle finger and licks up inside her.

It’s almost too much to handle, especially with the muffled way Zayn groans, like she’s enjoying this just as much. Her hands tremble as she braces them on Louis’ hips, fingernails biting into her skin just right. Louis’ knees buckle a little more with each second, and when Zayn’s tongue curls over her clit, she gasps sharply and comes almost before she realizes.

It takes a few moments for her to be able to speak again, getting her breath back as Zayn wipes her mouth off with the back of her hand. She looks pretty self-satisfied for someone who’d practically given herself a concussion a few minutes ago.

“Better than if we took guys home, yeah?”

Louis leaves her pants on the floor and slings her arm over Zayn’s shoulder as they head back to her bedroom, partly out of solidarity and partly because her legs are still trembling all the way down to the ankles.

“Oh, I suppose,” she says airily, flopping down on her bed without bothering to change. “If you like that sort of thing.”

Zayn curls up next to her, moonlight filtering in through the window and throwing shadows across her face. Her mouth looks swollen as it curves into a smile.

“Thought so.”


End file.
